


Something Like A Remedy

by teakroses



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, F/F, Femslash, Lesbians, Nyotalia, noreng
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teakroses/pseuds/teakroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosa Kirkland, occasional club girl, meets a beautiful but mysterious woman... in more ways than one. Fem!NorEng. Inspired in part by club mixes on 8tracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday

Saturday

The bass line of the song blasting in the club rippled in time though Rosa’s sternum as she stumbled through the crowd of faceless bodies illuminated by pink and green strobe lighting and the purple glow of a black light on white clothing. She couldn’t tell if the heat across her face was from the warmth produced by the cramped dancing club goes or possibly from the nine or ten shots of vodka or rum or whatever booze she had ordered that night. Concentrating on not twisting her ankles in the sky high heels she regretted putting on, she pushed towards the restroom. Her tight tartan print mini skirt impeded her stride almost as much as her ridiculous shoes but she moved quickly with the occasional slurred “excuse me.” Drunk or not, Rosa always retained her manners. 

She came to the club alone, which is not out of the ordinary for her. She used to come with Emily, but her sister had a tendency to leave her behind once an attractive man bought her enough drinks. It was better to come by herself. This way, she could hide in the crowd, lessening her chances of running into people she knows. Her friends and coworkers didn’t need to know this is how she spends her days off. They probably assumed her to have quiet nights alone at home.

Rosa discovered with tight clothing and bit of confidence, the bouncer (who she got to know somewhat after regularly visiting. The bouncer was fit, pale man with a German accent and an acute case of narcissism. He told her his name was Gil and that he loves his work in the canary building of the local zoo when he’s not bouncing.) usually let her right in. She may not not have a mile’s worth of cleavage like Emily but with some make up, a skirt that’s up to water line and a generously padded bra, she can work with what she has. 

Escaping the flashing lights and the full brunt of the hypnotic, pulsating music, she ducked into the shady restroom and into a gratified stall to relieve herself. Contemplating calling it a night and ringing for a taxi, her heels click against the dirty linoleum floor as she heads toward the rows of sinks and mirrors. The blonde woman using the mirror beside her removed a clip from her hair and shook it out. Rosa watched the woman as she ran her fingers through her soft looking locks. Unlike her own coarse, dirty blonde hair, this woman’s reminded her of the white sandy beaches on trifold pamphlets dedicated to tropical getaways. 

After the woman decided her hair was shaken out enough (it didn’t look any different than it had before; stick straight with one odd curl on the side), she quietly turned to go, leaving her silver hair pin on the edge of the sink. 

“Oi, miss, you forgot this,” Rosa said, picking it up and holding it between her thumb and index finger. The clip, a small silver cross made of solid metal, was heavier than she expected. 

“Oh, right, thank you. I don’t usually forget that.” The woman blinked back at her, touching the dent in her hair where the clip usually rests before reaching for it. Her eyebrows furrow when Rosa pulled it away. The woman’s expressions, Rosa saw, were small and she imagined they would be hard to decipher under normal circumstances. If she wasn’t looking closely at her, she wouldn’t have noticed her lips purse ever so slightly in confusion and annoyance.

“What are you doing?” The woman asked, as if she was dealing with a misbehaving child. 

“I’ll trade you,” Rosa said with a cheeky smile. She knew she wouldn’t do this sober but at that moment, she wasn’t too concerned with her inhibitions. “I’ll give you this back,” She held the pin up for her to see, allowing the faint light from above the mirrors to reflect off of the metallic surface. “In exchange for your number... or a snog. Which ever you prefer.” 

The woman stared at her with a deadpan expression, as if to deliberate whether or not she’s kidding. That, or she’s deciding on which option to take. That quick sweep of her blue eyes over Rosa could mean either. 

“I’m serious.” Rosa asked with a high, flirty note in her voice, turning the metal piece over in her fingers. “What’s it going to be?”

With a step forward and a tsk, the woman made her decision. To her surprise, lightly chapped lips were pressed roughly against Rosa’s open and strawberry lip balm covered mouth. She pressed back but the woman’s lips overtook her bottom one, sucking and nibbling on it, not at all gently as her fingers went from Rosa’s wrist to the hand holding her pin. 

Knowing Rosa would not give up her hairpin quickly. The woman pressed her to the wall behind them, pushing her tongue against Rosa’s and nudging her knee between her legs. Rosa hears herself give a muffled whine but she doesn’t let go of the pin. Holding her there, the woman’s thin fingers pried away Rosa’s until she could reclaim her jewelry. 

The woman pulled away, triumphantly clipping the cross back into her hair. 

“Thank you.” The faintly smiling woman replied, then turned for the door. “I would have hated to lose my clip again.”


	2. Monday

The short skirt, the strawberry lip balm and the pounding hangover from the weekend is gone. Rosa’s not a club girl all of the time, you know. 

Today, she was all nurse’s scrubs and tied back hair for work. In the morning during the week, she usually saves herself the trouble of putting on make up. Who’s there to impress besides her coworkers and the parents of sick kids who find themselves in at the pediatrician’s? 

No one, that’s who.

Rosa checked the time. 3:30pm. According to the books, the next appointment she’s scheduled for a five year old boy named Emil, who’s complaining of ear pains. An ear infection, she assumed. It was common ailment among kids. A quick flip through of his file says he has a history of them, along with a series of various other childhood illnesses. She happily concludes that this will be a quick appointment. 

“Emil?” She called out into the colorful waiting room, the one filed with those plastic bead track tables and cartoon character wall clings. A small, white haired boy holding a plushie (Rosa guessed it was some kind of bird) perked up and tugged on the sleeve of the woman reading a magazine beside him. Rosa swore under her breath when she saw the glint of a silver cross in the woman’s hair. She had no idea she would see the woman from the club, let alone in her waiting room with a child. Not thinking, Rosa hides her embarrassed face with her clip board and turns towards the examination room. “This way, please.” 

“They’re not going to give me another shot, are they?” The boy, clutching his stuffed toy, asked with a whine. “Last time, Matt made the nurse angry so she gave me three shots.” 

“No shots today.” The woman shook her head, not looking at all amused at all with whoever Matt is. Rosa, walking ahead of them and assuming the worst, guessed it was a boyfriend or the boy’s stepfather. “They’re just going to look at your ear and give you some medicine.”

“But sissy-” Emil whined again. Rosa blinked. Sissy?

“But lillebror-” The woman whined back, gently mocking him in the way that loving big sisters do. “You’re going to be fine.” She continues, placing her long pale fingers on her little brother’s head, messing up his white hair. “Emil, what does the fox say?” 

“Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!” the boy replied happily, momentarily distracted from the idea of getting a shot.

Rosa had no idea what was going on between the two of them or why a fox would make that noise but she’s relieved that the woman doesn’t seem to recognize her. She ushered them into the examination room, then went through the standard questions of “is he on any medication?” and “how long has he had the symptoms?” all while making minimal eye contact with the woman- who she learned was named Sigrid. 

Sigrid, watched Rosa carefully as she examined Emil’s heart and breathing, along with his throat and indeed infected ear(s). She felt a bit like she was being watched by a protective mother bird of prey. She was about to take a note on the boy’s condition, when she noticed she forgot her pen on the desk besides Sigrid. She sighed inwardly. “Forgetful as always,” She told herself.

“Sigrid-” She starts to ask, noting how nice the woman’s name felt on her tongue. It wasn’t a common name by a long shot but it suited her somehow... “Seeg-reed,” The pronunciation of the name rolled through her head. What is the etymology behind that name? Something Nordic. Norwegian, possibly. Rosa was tempted to repeat her name but decided not to make things anymore awkward for herself. “Can you pass me that pen?” 

“This one?” Sigrid picks up the cheap plastic pen, turning it over in her fingers. “I’ll trade you,” She echos, the one corner of her mouth tugging upward into a smirking half smile. “I’ll give it back for the same conditions as our last trade.” 

Sputtering, Rosa steps across the small examination room to make a grab at the pen, but Sigrid moves it out of her reach just in time. 

“What’s it going to be?” She asks, still repeating Rosa’s words from that night in the dingy club bathroom with that soft, clipped voice of her’s. The pen is held up slowly in in front of her face. Her green eyes crossed to focus on on the blue plastic. 

“Fine. The first option.” With a dark mortified pink flushing across her face, Rosa snatched the pen out of her fingers, then took Sigrid’s hand. She scrawled her phone number on the inside of the woman’s wrist, then turned away to write some notes on a clip board. “Happy?”

Sigrid didn’t reply until they all heard the single ting of a text message coming from Rosa’s pocket. 

“Yes, very happy.” She says, the smug almost-smile on her lips lightly coloring her voice. 

Rosa had to leave the room to keep from swearing in front of the five year old.


End file.
